


Lark's Song

by AndreaRyan



Series: Lark's Song [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Ex Lovers, Longing, M/M, dont wank thinking about your ex it might mess you up - novel by Gellert Grindelwald, somewhat canon compliant I suppose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:41:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28567878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaRyan/pseuds/AndreaRyan
Summary: "Tell me, which bird had sang when we first kissed?"
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald
Series: Lark's Song [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2185314
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52





	Lark's Song

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing Gellert and I would like you all to know I lost my sleep to this and spent the night tapping this on my typewriter by a candle and that I craved wine, which is wierd because I don't drink and I blame Gellert for it. Also, I should be studying for my finals and I am doing this so, cheers!

**Lark’s Song**

Lately, Gellert thought about Albus a lot. But then again, maybe there was nothing odd about it. In fact it might had been the most regular thing in his life. Albus was always there when he went to sleep, his lips met Gellert’s skin once more, his hands - warm, they were always so warm - touched him everywhere he needed and his name filled the room.

And then Gellert fell asleep and sometimes, Albus was there, too. But most often, Albus reappeared when the morning light first met Gellert’s eyes. And then, during the day, he spent his time trying not to think about Albus, just to lose the battle, sooner or later. 

So yes, Gellert thought of Albus a lot. 

He also spent a good portion of his free time wondering whether Albus thought of him and whether he remembered all the little details. Did he still remember what Gellert wore when they first saw each other? 

No, that was too easy. He wore black, he always wore black, even decades later, Albus would know this, but the colour would probably mean something different now. It was no longer a mysterious temptation - no, Albus would surely choose different words. The colour of his soul? 

_“The colour you made me wear for so long?”_

Would Albus say that? No. He would not. It didn’t sound quite like him. Not like the Albus he knew. 

The truth was - and that was perhaps the worst of it - Albus would not say a thing. He would just watch him with that stare of his. That stare Albus used to pretend not to be aware of, when in reality Gellert knew, he just knew, that Albus did it on purpose. The stare was his Veritaserum. Whenever he looked at Gellert in that annoyingly meaningful way, Gellert would tell him everything and almost - but never quite - beg for forgiveness.

The colour was too easy then, something harder. Would he still remember which bird had sang in the garden when they first kissed? Did he even notice back then - the innocent boy - that it was a lark?

But perhaps, they were at a point in their life, when he pretended like they had never kissed in the first place and perhaps, Gellert should start pretending, too. But how could he when the memory of Albus came back to kiss him every night? 

Gellert’s favourite game when he could not sleep was to act like Albus was next to him, talking to him. They even argued on some nights. On other, they made love and the truth spilled in the palm of Gellert’s hand.

‘I like your eyes,’ the nonexistent Albus told him. ‘When we were younger, they made me feel like you hide the truth of the whole world in them.’

‘And now?’ Gellert asked.

‘Now I think you store the truth of the whole universe in them.’ 

Gellert laughed, he wasn’t sure what was so funny about it, but he wanted to laugh, he wanted that night to be light. 

He reached for Albus’ hand, grabbed a handful of sheets and placed his other hand on his chest where their promise still rested over his heart. 

‘I like your eyes, too. I know I’ve never told you - I should have told you. You have beautiful eyes.’

‘So, why are you telling me now?' Albus asked.

‘I don’t want you to go.’

‘I am not going anywhere.’

‘I know,’ Gellert whispered into the dark. ‘Albus? Do you remember which bird had sang when we kissed for the first time?’

‘What do you want me to say?’ Albus asked. 

‘Tell me it was a lark tonight. I don’t want to fight.’ 

‘Lark. It was a lark,’ Albus said.

‘Thank you,’ Gellert breathed out, drifting away.

  
  


‘Sir.’

Gellert turned to a man standing in the doorway, fear written all over his face. ‘Shouldn’t we move? We are staying at one spot for too long. I think they might be onto us.’

‘No,’ Gellert replied, almost immediately. ‘We’ll stay a little longer. There is something I must do. Now go, leave me.’

The man nodded, but looked only slightly calmer. 

Gellert walked to a desk - not his desk, nothing in the apartment was technically his - and sat down. 

  
  


_Albus,_ he began. No _Dear_ or _My_ . Just **Albus,** because he was no longer _his_ and they were way past _dear_. It was strange to write the name again. He said it often in his head, moaned it, too. But writing it was different. It somehow made it real - and it was real. It wasn’t a dream nor a pathetic fantasy. This was a letter and he knew it would find its addressee.

  
  


_Albus,_

_They think they are onto me. They are not. You could be, you are. What is taking you so long? I know you are coming sooner or later. Or, are you not sure which side you belong to, still? We used to be good. We could be good again. We could make it._

_Do you think they know? About us? Do you think they would let you keep your job if they knew? I wonder…_

_In my world, you would not have to hide._

_That’s what you do, isn’t it? You hide. You hide who you are and your power, too. I doubt you even still remember, you probably pretend like it never happened._

_Tell me, which bird had sang when we first kissed?_

  
  
  


Gellert didn’t expect a reply. He didn’t write to him to get one. It would anger Albus and for some time he would be forced to think of him, just as weak to the past as Gellert. That was enough. He wouldn’t be able to run away from the late night thoughts either. They would have to suffer together, apart. 

Some days later, just as he was about to give an order to move to another location, a piece of paper appeared in his pocket. That was a new trick. He wondered how Albus did it, but even more, he craved to know what was on a parchment so small it could only hold a sentence or two. 

_Lark._

_PS: I am coming._

‘Sir, shouldn’t we move?’

Gellert smiled to himself as he folded the parchment again. ‘No, I still have something to do here.’ 


End file.
